


Feef/Thiefshipping One Shots

by DruidicRune



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh the Abridged Series, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Feefshipping, Fluff, M/M, Thiefshipping, abridged bakura, abridged marik, yugioh abridged - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 01:29:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19686370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DruidicRune/pseuds/DruidicRune
Summary: A series of drabbles I'd written back before I began my break from posting fanfiction (c. 2016). Some just never saw the light of day, others were originally posted tomy tumblr, but are now lost due to tumblr's horrific tagging system. I'll be updating as I reread each drabble and make any necessary edits.If you're new to my neck of the woods: a lot of these drabbles/one-shots were written based on the characterizations I'd portrayed in my first (and only) completed ygotas long fic,Unpaid Interns.The degree of fluff vs smut varies widely from one shot to one shot. I'll be more specific about what kind of content to expect in the author's note of each update.





	1. Night Light

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise, bitch. Bet you thought--
> 
> Like the summary says, this is a drabble/ficlet I'd written sometime in 2016 before I faded out from the ygotas fandom.
> 
> I was really surprised to find this one in the depths of my google drive. I completely forgot I'd ever written it. Apparently I'd intended it as a "warm-up" writing exercise, but after reading it for the first time in 3 years I'm shocked I didn't see anything in it more than that. I personally think I should have posted it back then, but 2016 times were spooky for me. I struggled a lot with self esteem and wanted everything I wrote to be utter perfection and literary genius. 
> 
> No smut in this one, folks. Just some fluff (i would say hurt/comfort but i don't know if that's what this is lol I'm really bad at this)

It had been one hour and counting since the door clicked shut at Bakura's heels, yet the sound of his footfalls descending the outside stairs still played in Marik’s mind. Marik knew it was silly. He knew the noise in his memory wouldn't fill the silence, and it wouldn't make him any less alone. It wouldn't stop the sun from going down.

He would only be gone for the night. That's what Bakura had told him. He could turn the TV all the way up and leave all the lights on and eat everything in the pantry. The apartment was under his sole rulership—not that it wasn’t before, but now Bakura wasn't around to whine about the noise and the lights and the cleanliness of the kitchen. 

It all sounded so promising before Bakura had actually left. Marik raved loudly about his plans to take over their living space up until then. Maybe that was why Bakura had left with such ease. 

And so Marik cranked the volume on the television like he swore he would do. He turned the lights on in every room, even the dull bulb poised over the shower. He sang along to every ridiculous commercial jingle that played, and made sure to leave plates and bowls and empty food packaging out on the countertops.

He imagined Bakura’s reaction and grinned wide, readying the quip he would fire back with.

But, he was alone.

Amidst the noise and the lights, he knew he was still alone. And loneliness was dangerous territory for him.

With that realization, Marik turned the TV up a couple more notches. He rubbed his temples and paced the living room, unable to focus his energy. Even with all the lights on, all he could think about was the darkness outside their windows. He swiftly closed the blinds. 

How could Bakura do this to him? How could he leave him _alone_? Darkness scared him; the silence terrified him. Bakura knew that. He knew Melvin. He knew the quiet of the tombs Marik had come from. He had to have known Marik wouldn't be able to sleep like this.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table. Marik’s anxious eyes flicked up, and when he saw Bakura’s contact picture (a blurry candid of him lounging on the couch) he darted for it.

It was a text message: “You haven't seen my phone charger, have you?”

Marik quickly pressed the call button, but backed out just as it reached the first ring. Instead, he punched in his response: “NO I'M TOO BUSY HAVING FUN WITHOUT YOU”

Bakura’s reply: “...Did you just call me?”

“I MUST HAVE DIALED U WITH MY BUTT HAHA U WISH”

“Why are you writing in all caps?”

“BECAUSE I'M HAVING A GREAT TIME.” He promptly deleted the period at the end and the apostrophe in “I’m,” because proper punctuation isn’t very villain-like.

Marik stared down his phone as he waited for Bakura's next message, tapping his fingers on the table. The wait grew more stressful as minutes ticked by, so much so that he muted the TV to avoid distraction. When his phone finally buzzed again, his heart leapt: “Seriously, Marik, did I forget my charger? Is it on my bed?”

He rolled his eyes and traipsed over to Bakura’s room. Peering in, his eye caught on something he hadn’t noticed earlier: a small brown shipping box, tape already cut open, resting on top of the bed. He couldn’t help himself. He unceremoniously pulled the flaps open and dug out all the packing peanuts until he saw it.

A plug-in night light. On top was a folded note that read: “The Amazon reviews said this thing keeps the Melvins away. Get some sleep, won’t you?”

\---

When Bakura returned the following morning, he was surprised to find a quiet apartment. The TV was on, but muted. The living room lights were on, but Marik wasn’t on the couch. After slipping off his shoes and carefully scanning the area, Bakura turned down the hallway toward his room. “Marik?” He called out, nerves gathering in the pit of his stomach. “I've got a--”

He realized his bedroom door was barely cracked open. He cautiously nudged his way inside. stopping in his tracks when he saw what lay within.

Curled up in his sheets, Marik was sleeping soundly. A soft set of breaths drifted in and out through his nose. All lights were off, save for the proud glow of Marik’s new night light plugged into the outlet beside the bed. Bakura slid off his overcoat and climbed into bed beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I'll post the next update when I finish rereading/editing the next thing.


	2. Laser Tag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Back again with another old drabble. This was originally posted to tumblr back in, I wanna say, early 2016. I was inspired by a post going around about spicy laser tag betrayal. This has been edited a little bit, but it's mostly the original text. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> No smut, just steamy kissing.

Perhaps it was the foggy air and flashing neon lights that had Bakura's head swimming; that had turned his mind into a swirling pool of incomprehensible thoughts bathed in the dizzying blacklights. For a moment all he could see were the bright red and green flashes peeking from over the top of the maze he stood in. 

The opposing team was closing in. 

He would have tensed to run, but with his back to the wall and Marik's wet lips pressed firmly to his own he could barely remember what he was supposed to be doing. His fingers, loosely holding the laser gun in his right hand, barely maintained their grasp on the trigger. Thinking wasn't possible anymore.

Marik hummed in delight as their mouths drew open in unison, his tongue poised at the edge of Bakura's bottom teeth. Bakura couldn't feel his hands anymore. His cheeks were one with the red neon haze emanating from the wall. Their lips came crashing together again, stirring a tightness in Bakura's jeans. He lost his breath in that moment.

The laser gun slipped from Bakura's grip and dangled helplessly from his harness while his hands found Marik's jaw, fingers climbing into his hair. He pulled him in harder. Nothing but white noise surrounded them. His ears burned.

And suddenly as they parted, the electronic sound ‘ _ pew _ !’ of a laser gun burst in front of him.

Bakura's half-lidded, dazed eyes went wide as he stared into Marik's smug expression. Between their bodies Marik held his laser gun, cocked up at Bakura's chest. Bakura's harness flashed with the shot, and betrayal hung in his stomach, muddling the dizziness in his head.

Marik grinned, as he stepped backward. He blew imaginary smoke from the barrel. 

“Hasta la vista, pissbaby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! I appreciate the comments and kudos so much!


	3. One-Way Mirror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A super short drabble for you! This one was also originally posted to tumblr, probably at the end of 2015. Edited for your viewing pleasure. I'm just kinda hammering through getting these posted now. There are a few left.

Though Bakura's eyes held an apathetic gaze, his vision of Marik was rose-colored, or to that effect, something deeper like burgundy or garnet. His mind was a pair of sunglasses; dark and opaque on the surface, a fortress in its own right, but clear and true looking out from within. He preferred his one-way mirror and the safety it offered. For most of his existence, that comfort was all he had to rely on.

But something Bakura learned quickly after meeting Marik was that mirrors could easily be shattered, 

for Marik's eyes had a way of seeing in despite the reflection of the glass. 

And from that day on his world was tinted with warmth. Wine was what he saw when his line of sight met Marik's, and it was what he felt when his head spun in the drunken, whirlwind of the way fresh love makes you feel. And for once he was happy sharing that vision with Marik. Like a secret between the both of them.

To the rest of the world, Bakura held his shields firm,

but with Marik, he was comfortably vulnerable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little thing I wrote in 2016 after a discussion with a friend about Marik's scars and his trust in Bakura. I didn't post it online because I thought it was bad. I'm glad I revisited it!

Particularly late one evening, Marik rose in the gloom of their apartment from his computer chair and made his way toward the bathroom with sleepy eyes. Since Bakura had retired hours earlier, Marik couldn't get over the uneasy feeling settling in his mind as the darkness and silence of the apartment sunk in.

It would be a quick shower, he figured. Something to calm the tension built in his shoulders from slouching over his keyboard. Though he was silent on the outside, he reasoned with himself within. There wasn't anything to be afraid of in the apartment, he told himself. It was nothing like the tomb. It was warmer, for one. And not  _ completely _ silent. There was the ever present hum of the radiator, and sometimes the footfalls of the upstairs neighbor heard through ceiling

And, he could at least summon light whenever he needed it. He flicked the switch in the bathroom and winced against the warm light as he slipped his T-shirt off over his head. More than anything, it was the feeling of loneliness whenever Bakura went to bed early that overwhelmed him.

In reality, Marik was afraid of himself when he was alone. Idle hands are the devil's workshop, so they say. Bakura kept him grounded, centered and in tune--for the most part. He turned on the sink faucet and looked at himself in the mirror, focusing on his eyes; staying collected. That was when he saw him.

From the reflection in the mirror, he noticed the flash of Bakura's eyes from the hallway, and within seconds, Bakura was behind him, hips pressed into Marik's ass. Bakura ran the bridge of his nose along Marik's neck

"I thought you were sleeping." The words toppled out of Marik's mouth in surprise. His shoulders tensed.

“Kind of hard to when all I could think about was you getting in bed with me." Bakura responded into the crook of Marik's neck

Marik rolled his shoulders back in that instant, shrinking away from Bakura's chest which pressed against his scars. It was a reflex at this point, rather than out of pain. It wasn't unpleasant, but something within him told him to be wary of any unsolicited touching of the area. Each touch was a jolt of electricity running through the damaged nerves.

Bakura paused and drew backward slightly, his expression apologetic in the mirror. "Did I hurt you?"

Marik swallowed, jamming the faucet back into the off position and dropped his head. "No, I'm all right. It's just—it's just weird."

It was Marik's tone that grabbed Bakura's heart just then. He backed away this time, eyes stuck on the complex healed lacerations across Marik's skin. "I won’t do it again."

Marik shook his head. "I said you didn't hurt me. I'm being honest."

Bakura's hand touched the back of Marik's forearm. He went to speak but paused, considering his words. "I’ve got scars, too--not the kind you can see."

Marik looked down into the sink.

"I didn’t experience what you went through, but I understand how you might feel. And I know I don't like it when someone pokes at those old wounds, either."

A thin smile grabbed at the edge of Marik's lips, his eyes wet. He looked back up into the mirror again, and this time Bakura's eyes held a glow he didn't see all that often. Genuine sincerity.

"You can touch them," Marik whispered. "I trust you with them."

Bakura wasn't used to words like that. Trust? Had he ever been told something like that before? Bakura wasn’t sure he even had trust in  _ himself _ . "I can't do that."

Marik looked him in the eyes again through the mirror, his expression intense. "I'm giving you my trust. You and only you. I’ve thought about this already."

He wasn't sure how to respond. Bakura was suddenly more awake, and his cold heart pumped twice as quickly as before in his chest. Would he have exposed himself to Marik if the tables were turned? Would he ever tell him everything about Kul Elna?

The answer was clear.

"I trust you, too," he said, and the words were so foreign to him he wasn't sure what language he was speaking anymore.

Fingers raised, he lightly grazed the very edges of Marik's skin, a short distance from the scars. He kept his right hand on the side of Marik's waist.

Marik nodded when he was ready, keeping his eyes on Bakura's.

Bakura's hand snaked closer, the area tingling under his touch. He paused a centimeter from the damaged skin at the small of Marik's back. And after a moment, Marik nodded.

The scars were noticeably raised under his fingertips. "Does it hurt?" he asked, staying his hand.

Marik pursed his lips. “Not right now. Sometimes, but not now."

Bakura knew this feeling. Oftentimes his memories of Kul Elna arose out of nowhere, and they hurt. Stinging pain erupted in his mind just thinking about it. Reliving his torture. But, Marik never pried the subject. Marik never asked him about it. Marik always seemed clued in to Bakura's comfort. He was gentle.

He traced the area up to Marik's shoulders, slowly and languidly. He paused every time Marik seemed to hold his breath and waited for his command before going any further. "I can stop if you want," Bakura said. “I won’t do this if it bothers you.”

"You have my trust for the rest of our lives."

The breath caught in Bakura's throat. His heart raced. "You... Why do you trust me?" he asked, dropping his hands to his sides.

"Because you're like me," Marik muttered, turning around to face him. "You hurt, too."

Bakura looked away, rubbing his eyes. Marik wrapped his arms around Bakura’s shoulders, Bakura returning the embrace. He looked into the mirror over Marik’s shoulder and for a moment, he swore he saw himself in his original body. But, something was different. He was warmer than before.


End file.
